


20 Good Reasons

by Rice-Ball247 (Koibito247)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drarry, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Slash, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2694923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koibito247/pseuds/Rice-Ball247
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Give me 20 good reasons why we can't be together, Harry. DM/HP, WIP</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Say Love Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling. The title (20 Good Reasons) is from the song of the same name, by Thirsty Merc.
> 
> Warning: slash, angst, and if I say anymore, I'll give away the plot.

_They say love hurts_  
I wrote that book  
I climbed that wall I had one look  
But you just came around  
To say hello

 _The streets were filled_  
With guilty hearts  
And here was I right from the start  
And I lost everything  
When I lost you

_\- 20 Good Reasons (Thirsty Merc)_

**Prologue: They Say Love Hurts  
**

The walk from the Hospital Wing to Gryffindor Tower seemed longer than ever, but Harry Potter never slowed his gait as he moved as quickly as possible without breaking into a run. Halfway there, he met up with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. The two instantly ran forwards, embracing their friend in a three-way hug before stepping back with identical expressions of concern.

"What did Madam Pomfrey say…?" Hermione trailed off, one hand clutching Ron's in a death grip, the other lay gently over Harry's shoulder. Harry didn't respond. "…Harry?" He glanced out of a corridor window instead.

"Mate?" Ron nudged Harry a little, telling himself that it couldn't be true. The half-smile on his face was torn between happiness and grief, before fading entirely. "Do you…?"

For a moment, both Ron and Hermione thought that Harry would never respond to them. They exchanged worried glances and turned back in time to see Harry give an almost imperceptible nod. Abject looks of horror washed over their faces before they engulfed Harry in a hug that tried to convey as much love and affection as possible.

Harry would pull through this. He always did.

"How… how much time?" Hermione's voice whispered brokenly, hitching between breathy sobs as she buried her tears into the crook of Harry's neck. The brunet boy felt a large, warm hand, Ron's hand; stroke his back consolingly.

"Five months."

Two-thirds of the Golden Trio closed their eyes in pain. It wasn't enough time. But they would have to make the most of it.

* * *

It was a Thursday. Draco Malfoy never particularly liked Thursdays. It meant that the end of the school week was dawning upon them, but there was still one more day to pull through. Draco had had enough of this week as it was. There were probably a number of factors that had, to put it lightly, made Draco's week absolute  _shite._

1\. Classes were now officially in the full swing of things.

2\. Crabbe and Goyle were as infuriatingly slow as ever.

3\. Blaise Zabini wasn't putting out.

4\. Pansy Parkinson  _was_.

5\. And Potter – Harry, he mentally amended – was still as oblivious as ever.

The annoying little crush he had developed for the 'precious Gryffindor' had been driving him up the wall since the end of their sixth year, coming at a rather inconvenient (and rather inappropriate) time. It was a period when the entire Wizarding population of Britain seemed to be put under much strain. The Dark Lord – Voldemort, Draco again corrected himself – was as active as ever and it didn't help that Draco's parents were very much in the midst of things.

Draco had lived in fear, for a while, that his father would do as Voldemort had asked and turn his own son, his flesh and blood, into one of the Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy had thoughts on the contrary. Without alerting his wife or son of his plans, Lucius sought out the help of Severus Snape, who in turn, directed him to Albus Dumbledore.

Lucius had walked on thin ice for months, until finally, Harry Potter decided to make a move. Not Voldemort. Harry.

In some foolhardy, no doubt Gryffindor, plan he had concocted in his mind, Harry had successfully managed to lure Voldemort to grounds that could be used to their advantage. Granted, Voldemort would have struck there regardless, but on familiar terrain, and with many allies, Harry had managed to strike down the 'almighty' Dark Lord in the middle of the Great Hall. There was a blinding light when spells collided and what felt like a shockwave began from the eye of the battle and continued outwards.

Draco's breath had caught when he saw Harry fall. He didn't know what had prompted his body into action, but in the span of a few seconds, Draco was at the other's side and had negated any impact. With the power he'd just seen Harry put forth moments before to successfully vanquish Voldemort, it was with great surprise that he held the lightweight body in his arms, so easily. Draco trembled when he felt Harry breath a great sigh of relief, unconsciously, before he stopped breathing altogether.

In an instant, Harry was pulled away from him. People pushed Draco away, screaming at him to " _get back, Malfoy!_ " It was an even greater commotion than when Voldemort had stormed Hogwarts castle. In the flurry, Draco had been pushed further and further away from Harry, who was in the centre of healing spells and potions, and even Muggle revival techniques by the looks of things. Draco knew when he was unwanted.

Barely glancing at his father and mother, who stood in a tight circle of remaining Death Eaters and surrounding Aurors, Draco quietly slipped out of the Great Hall and made his way to his dorm. It felt… strange. The darkest lord of their time had finally fallen and Draco felt no happiness.

It had left as soon as Harry was pulled from his arms, gone as quick as it had come. That light, fluttery feeling made him feel giddy inside. It was then that Draco surmised, he had somehow fallen for that stupid, reckless, dorky-looking,  _(kinda cute looking)_ , Gryffindor.

He would tell Harry. Eventually.

One day.

Soon.

The sixth year ended and the seventh began. Draco snorted to himself, "You keep telling yourself that, Malfoy."

He watched, longingly, as Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express with something akin to grim on his face. Something was wrong with him, and Draco would find out what, no matter how long it took.

It's funny how you think you have all the time in the world when you're young.

 _So tell me why-y-y-y_  
Should I let you go  
Give me 20 good reasons  
I need to know, yeah


	2. But You Just Came Around To Say Hello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and any affiliated characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling.

"Malfoy, for the last time: Leave. Me. Alone!" Harry grumbled loudly as he sped up his power-walk to get away from the persistent blond who never seemed to leave his peripheral vision, as disturbing as that may have seemed. No matter which way Harry turned, Malfoy was always there. It annoyed him to no end.

"Can't I just be a  _little_ concerned for your wellbeing?" Draco asked with a raised brow as he followed Harry with determination in each step. He thanked his lucky stars that both Weasley and Granger were absent for once. He had just managed to catch Harry leaving the Hospital Wing after what seemed like the third time in one week.

"No, you may  _not_ ," Harry snapped as he rounded a corner, attempting to lose Malfoy by taking as many random turns as possible. It shouldn't have mattered to Harry anyway, as he knew most of the school like the back of his hand. He couldn't say the same for Malfoy though. All Harry needed to do was quickly duck into a classroom and hope that Malfoy continued onwards, amazingly befuddled over Harry's sudden disappearance.

But no such luck.

Not only was Malfoy swift on his feet (damn his long legs for being able to catch up with Harry's short stature), but he had eyes like a hawk. It was difficult to lose him and Harry could feel it grating on his nerves.

Finally, abruptly, he stopped, only to feel Malfoy collide into his back. The two nearly topped over, but a large hand clasped around Harry's arm and jerked him backwards. He was saved from a face-plant with the floor, and had probably gained a bruise on his elbow in the process.

"Gee, thanks Malfoy," Harry muttered dryly as he rubbed his arm before crossing both over his chest. "You know what? Since the start of this year, you've been following me. Don't think I haven't noticed. Y'know, it gets a little creepy after a while? So 'fess up. Why?"

 _Now would be the perfect time to confess_.

"Why what?" Draco replied, without skipping a beat. He mentally kicked himself.  _Why_ , oh  _why_  did he have to be a smartarse  _now?_

"Why are you following me everywhere?" Harry answered impatiently with a huff. When Malfoy didn't seem to be considering telling the truth, he turned on his heel and continued down the hallway.

"Wait! Okay, I'll tell you."

Harry didn't stop, but he did slow down enough for Malfoy to catch up to him. It didn't take that long for him to do so (again, curse his short legs!). Harry stopped and turned to face his once-upon-a-time school nemesis. Both had grown up a little since their last malevolent encounter and Harry, whose face heated up at the memory, could still remember what it felt like to be caught in Malfoy's strong arms.

Again, Harry crossed his arms over his chest, choosing this time, to lean against the corridor wall. Conveniently enough for them, the hallway was deserted, so if a conflict broke out, no one would be able to stop Harry from punching Malfoy's face in.

"I think I should just come out and say it. Like a  _bandage_ , you know?" Draco laughed at his own Muggle joke, feeling himself swell with pride when he saw Harry's lip quirk in slight amusement. It quickly turned to impatience when Draco continued to stall for time. "But I've never imagined myself in a situation such as this before. Usually, it's the other way around, and people have to-"

"Malfoy," Harry quickly intervened before he: a) died of boredom, or b) died of old age. "If you're not going to tell me why you're following me, at least tell me why you feel the need to keep me here, in a pointless convers-"

"I like you," Malfoy blurted out quickly, before feeling his face heat up in shame. The suave, slow seduction he had imagined in his head quickly flew out the window when his  _stupid, stupid_  brain had finally registered what it had done.

Harry's jaw dropped open for a moment ( _okay, that's good, at least I know he heard me_ ), and then he frowned ( _okay,_ _ **NOT**_ _good! I hope he doesn't hex my bollocks for this…_ ), before finally resigning himself with a heavy, withdrawn sigh. His face closed off, blank, and he turned to continue down the corridor.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy, but you can't."

Draco, who had finally recovered from his social blunder in front of his crush, no less, quickly amended the space between them. "What do you mean 'I can't'? Can't like you? Well in case it hasn't crossed your mind, Harry-" an eyebrow rose on Harry's part, "-you can't help who you like, and I certainly didn't tell myself, 'Oh look, it's Harry Potter, let's fall in love'-"

Draco cut himself off before he could embarrass himself further, when a shocked look passed over Harry's face. "You  _love_  me?"

Oh, the incredulousness was practically dripping from that statement alone. Draco coughed and attempted to fix it, "Yes, no, maybe. I don't know. I like you. A lot. Please, Harry, at least consider it? Go out with me?"

Harry didn't even pause to formulate his next reply, "Is that why you've been following me all this time? Because you  _like_  me 'a lot'?"

Draco frowned and he stepped back a little. "I…  _look_ , Harry-"

"Stop calling me 'Harry', it's freaking me out. I didn't give you permission to address me so intimately," Harry snapped, when he felt that Malfoy was getting a  _bit_ _ **too**_ casual for his liking.

"Potter, then," Draco corrected himself, much to his own dismay. He took a bracing breath to steel his own nerves, before he continued, "And that's part of the reason why. I just… I noticed you, on the Hogwarts Express. You looked…  _crap_ , for lack of a better word."

"Gee, thanks Malfoy. Is that you speaking or did your parents raise you up to be socially awkward?" Harry replied wryly. Draco flushed again and shook his head.

"Sorry. I get all messed up whenever I'm around you, Har-  _Potter_ ," he stressed the name, as if to say 'look, I listened to you!'

This time it was Harry's turn to flush at the obvious compliment and he turned his face away from the Slytherin. "You…  _look_ , Malfoy. You  _can't_  like me. Trust me. It's for your own good."

"Why?" Draco persisted, reaching out to grab Harry's shoulder when the other boy attempted to break their conversation off again.

Harry threw the hand off his shoulder, whirled 'round and said, " _Because_ , okay?! You just  _can't_. It's for your own good," he quieted, then whispered more to himself than to Draco, "and my own."

"Fine."

Harry looked up, this time more surprised that Malfoy had given up so easily. Usually, he was very determined to get what he wanted. Despite this, Harry could feel a plan formulating in Malfoy's Slytherin mind.

"Fine?"

"Yes, fine. On one condition though. I'll leave you alone, but only if you give me twenty good reasons why we can't be together," Draco stated simply, folding his arms across his chest as if it would put an emphasis on his previous statement. Harry's brow lifted in disbelief.

"Why do I have to answer to  _you_?" he laughed bitterly, shaking his head as he turned away again. His best avoidance technique to date.

At least, Draco thought so.

"Humour me, you coward, and stop running away."

Harry stopped and turned. He narrowed his eyes, feeling very much spiteful, and spat, "Here's reason number one: YOUR HAIR IS STUPID!"

He then cast a powerful,  _permanent_  sticking charm to the soles of Malfoy's (no doubt expensive) dragon hide boots and scurried away from the disbelieving blond before the situation could catch up on him. Draco was stunned, literally rooted to the spot as he watched Harry disappear around the corner.

He felt a twitch beneath his eye.

_Stupid hair? What kind of stupid, petty reason is that?_

He tried to escape, but to no avail, even with magic. With a sigh, he undid the shoelaces from his boots and stepped out onto the cold, flagstone floor. Thank Merlin he wore warmer socks today, as it  _was_  getting colder.

He thought about Harry's reason. Surely that couldn't count, right? His hair most certainly wasn't stupid! Nevertheless, he hurried into the nearest bathroom to check his reflection. With a critical eye, he studied his platinum blond hair. It resembled the slick, gelled hair he had favoured in his first year. With a wince, he turned the taps on, wetted his hands and ran it through his neatly styled hair.

The gel was washed out, leaving his hands with a slightly oily sensation. His broad shoulders had droplets of water, which was quickly remedied with a drying charm. Again, he looked at himself in the water-spotted mirror. His hair stuck up in every direction, but he admitted, it looked slightly (alright, a  _lot_  better) than when it was glued to his scalp.

Still. It dried quickly after a complicated wand motion, then he arranged it so that it looked artfully mussed. He flashed a quick smirk at his reflection. Not bad.

He'd try to confront Harry again. Eventually.

Soon.

Maybe when his ego stopped nursing its wounds. Ouch. Harry could be harsh when he wanted to be. Draco made a note to himself to try to get Harry alone, within the week.

Easier said than done.


	3. Guilty Hearts

Getting Harry alone was as easy as getting Snape to tap-dance in front of the Great Hall. Impossible. Well, he  _had_  managed to get Harry alone last week, but that had merely been a stroke of luck when Harry had emerged from the Hospital Wing.

This week, however, Harry seemed to be ignoring Draco. On top of that, there was always a Gryffindor or two, or even that crazed Ravenclaw, by his side. Draco was getting  _very_  frustrated. He tried his luck at waiting outside of the infirmary, but had quickly changed direction when he spotted Harry's faithful sidekicks, Weasley and Granger, waiting outside with concern.

Now usually, this would have put a smile on his face (an evil one, but a smile nonetheless). But since he had discovered his attraction for the Gryffindor, it did nothing to appease the worry he felt for the other boy. Part of him longed to stay, to wait in front of those double doors to see what had happened to  _his_  precious Harry.

Another part, the more rational, logical part of his brain (usually the one that got him into trouble, ironically enough), told him that he would get hexed six ways to Sunday by either Gryffindor waiting outside, if he'd been spotted lurking around.

He wondered if Harry had told Buckteeth and Weasel about their 'encounter' in the corridor last week. Again, it was a split decision in his mind – pride that Harry would feel free, not ashamed, to talk about him, and worry that the two Gryffindors would try to protect Harry from him.

However, before he could find out for sure if his precious Harry had mentioned anything to his best friends, said boy walked out of the Hospital Wing and nailed him to the spot with an angry glare. Weasley and Granger caught on and he found himself on the receiving end of the Weasel's wand.

"What do you want, Ferret?" he snarled, spitting the loathed nickname like it was dirt in his mouth. Or slugs, if Draco wanted to bring up  _that_  embarrassing memory. But he didn't.

Draco smirked and raised an eyebrow at the admittedly weak insult. It  _had_  outgrown its use, or perhaps the Weasel hadn't outgrown his brain yet. "None of your business, Weasley. Now step aside. I want to talk to Potter."

"I don't want to talk to you," Harry snapped before anyone could respond. He plucked his bookbag from Hermione's outstretched hand and slung it over his hip. "Now go away and leave me alone."

"You heard him, Malfoy. Bugger off."

"Will you just  _shut up_ , Weasley? And stay out of it, damn you. I said, I want to talk to Potter," Draco repeated firmly, his eyes glued to Harry's face. He felt bereft when Harry refused to meet his eyes. He loved Harry's eyes whenever he caught a glimpse of them. How could anything be so  _green_?

_Okay, stop before you start waxing poetic about his 'emerald depths', Draco. Those poems you wrote over the summer break were_ _**bad enough** _ _. Not to mention, extremely embarrassing._

Thank Merlin no one had found them. He hoped.

"And I said, I don't want to talk to you," Harry reiterated, pivoting on his heel and storming off. Weasley kept his wand trained on Draco, a look of immense dislike evident. Granger merely shook her head and gestured for her red-haired boyfriend to follow their friend.

Weasley did so, albeit reluctantly. He nodded to Granger then took off after Harry. It was then that Granger rounded on Draco. "What do you want with Harry?"

"I don't have to answer to you, Granger," Draco replied curtly, pocketing his wand. He knew that Granger, loathe as he was to admit it, was a responsible student. While she could throw a fair punch, she wouldn't use magical means to hurt someone else unless they were a threat, or had hurt her friends. Plus, she had, unsurprisingly, acquired Head Girl status, meaning she had a reputation to uphold and couldn't go around hexing other students for the sake of it.

"Malfoy, look. I don't know why Harry's… being rude to you. Last I heard you two were on okay terms after the war ended. Civil even. Harry wouldn't strike back unless provoked, with the exception of Voldemort."

"Are you implying that his bitchy behaviour is MY fault?" Draco snapped defensively. Granger rolled her eyes and brought a hand to her face, rubbing it with frustration.

" _No,_ Malfoy. I'm just saying that Harry's not usually like this, and that you shouldn't take offense to his behaviour. Just leave him be. That's all he wants," with those departing words and a warning look, Granger turned away and headed off in the direction of her boyfriend and best friend, leaving Draco standing stock still in the middle of the corridor.

Damn, he seemed to be doing that a lot lately. With a frustrated sigh, he gave up. For today, at least. It was only Wednesday, anyway. Still plenty of time.

* * *

 

Harry dipped his spoon into the bowl of steaming pumpkin soup, mixing in the swirl of white cream with the rest. A platter of warm, crusty bread accompanied his dish, with enough melted butter to leave tiny rivulets of canary yellow on his plate.

"Harry, please. You need to eat to keep up your strength," Hermione scolded gently, pleased when Harry took a small sip of his soup and ripped a chunk out of his buttered roll.

"Stop treating me like I'm dying, Hermione," Harry replied quietly, dipping the rest of his bread into his soup. Ron paused in his meal, opened his mouth, and then for once, thought better of it and resumed eating. Hermione was relieved that her boyfriend had the decency to think before speaking. She knew the silent  _'but you are_ ' lingered in the suddenly tense atmosphere between them.

Around them, the Great Hall went about as normal, loud and cheerful. Even the rest of the Gryffindor table paid their Savior and his friends no mind. Since the defeat of Voldemort the year before, not a single day passed with the paranoia and worry that had gripped them in early 1997. It was hard to believe that only a few months ago, Harry had finally defeated his arch-nemesis and fulfilled the prophecy, the expectation and unwanted burden that had cast itself upon him when he was a baby.

Everyone was happy and moving on. Harry was still… stuck. Or rather, his condition had prevented him from moving forward. It felt like another burden had been thrown on him. As much as he would have loved to just drop out of school and tour the world while he still had the chance…

He couldn't.

He was brought out of his musings when Hermione patted his hand and reminded him to keep eating. Harry obliged, if only to keep her satisfied. Across from him, Ron had kept up his appetite of many years, scarfing down his food like it was water. Hermione kicked him under the table, a not-so-subtle gesture to 'slow down before I throw up my food from watching you eat'.

Harry smiled at the interaction between Ron and Hermione. It was about time they started dating and he'd be damned if they didn't get married and have a half-a-dozen or more children to carry on the Weasley line.

The smile faded when it occurred to him that he wouldn't live to see them married, much less to see the birth of his first godchild. He didn't even think about children for himself. The war had kept him on his toes, thinking about the 'here and now', rather than the future.

Harry went back to eating his soup, dutifully ignoring the stare that burned into his forehead from across the Great Hall.

* * *

 

Damn it! Why was he being ignored again?

Draco thought fast. He had to think of a way to catch Harry, alone and off-guard, without being perceived as a threat. He thought about owling Harry a note, but that would probably end up ripped and Incendio-ed on the spot.

He had to catch him somehow. Think, Draco, think!

"Oh Drakey!"

_Oh_ _**shite** _ _. Wait…_

A strained smile, "Pansy," she frowned at him, " _dearest_ ," he swallowed a grimace when she smiled and pressed up against his arm, "do you think you could… do me a favour?"

"Oh,  _anything for you_ , Draco," she fluttered her elongated eyelashes at him and Draco could only speculate in wonder how she managed to  _see_  through those damned things. Draco forced a smile at his (easily manipulated) 'friend', slipping an arm around her shoulder.

He leaned in close and whispered into her ear, "Potter's giving me a bit of a problem. I need to get him alone. Think you can keep the rest of the Gryffindorks at bay?"

She giggled and nodded, "Of course I can. Do you want them hospitalised?"

Draco snorted.  _I doubt you could_. But no, he didn't want Harry to turn against him. He wanted Harry to  _like_  him, which meant he couldn't hurt any of his friends, even if it was through Pansy's actions. "No, just keep them away from Potter long enough for me to get a fist or two in."

"Alright then, Draco. But! It's going to cost you."

_Of course it would. I'd be worried for Slytherin if there_ _**wasn't** _ _a price behind this bargain. Hopefully, she won't ask for—_

"I'll see you tonight, Drakey," she sent him a coy glance before standing up to brush off her robes.  _Damn and blast._ Despite the impending doom of having to 'entertain' Pansy tonight, Draco felt his excitement build at the prospect of catching Harry alone again. Dinner had finished and Draco quickly made his way out of the Great Hall with a smirk plastered on his face. He had to find a place to stay hidden until Harry walked past. Then, he would ambush him.

If there was one thing Pansy was good at, it was getting rid of unwanted Gryffindors. She pissed them off easily enough.

Draco thought to himself for a moment. He didn't know Harry's timetable very well, nor had he been watching Harry long enough to familiarise himself with the younger man's habits. So the best bet Draco could hope for was that Harry would go up to Gryffindor Tower after dinner.

To his fortune, Pansy had caused an altercation on the way to Gryffindor Tower, stopping most of the seventh year Gryffindors in their tracks. He didn't know how, but Pansy had managed to get Harry past them. He would, Draco supposed, have to thank her later for that. Draco smirked to himself as he observed Harry's walk – fast, somewhat hurried, as if he always had somewhere to be, yet he kept his head down and avoided eye contact.

So of course, he didn't see Draco when he turned the corner and smacked face first into the Slytherin's chest. Draco leered down at his messy haired companion, thoroughly enjoying the flush of pink that suffused through his cheeks, and went down, down, _down_...

"Potter," he greeted cordially, in the most pleasant tone he could muster. In an instant, Harry had stepped away, his hand already wrapped around his wand in a silent threat. "Now, now. Don't be like that, Potter. If anything, you should be apologising for ignoring me all week. How do you think I feel? I confess that I like you, and you hurt my feelings," Draco drawled airily, but his words were sincere. As much as he hated to admit it, Harry had hurt him with his actions, or lack thereof.

"Malfoy,  _you're_  the one who's following  _me_  around everywhere. You must be looking for a death wish or something. It's not my problem if I ignore you – just leave me alone!" Harry scowled as he tried to edge past Draco, keeping his wand trained on the other wizard. Draco held his hands up in a defensive gesture, but didn't attempt to reach for his wand.

"Put your wand away, Potter," Draco suggested smoothly, not taking his eyes away from Harry's for even a moment. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the polished length of wood being lowered and then pocketed. "We had a deal."

"If this is about those stupid twenty reasons I have to give you, then forget it. I'm not playing your silly little game with you anymore, Malfoy," Harry spat, before continuing, "in fact, I don't remember ever agreeing, or making a deal with you."

Draco tried, he really did, to  _not_  be infuriating, but he couldn't help himself. "Not in so many words, perhaps, but you did say, and I quote, ' _here's reason number one: your hair is stupid_ '. There, by admitting the first reason, you agreed."

Harry bristled, and then huffed loudly, "I don't know how you came to  _that_  conclusion. I just wanted you to bugger off. Still do, as a matter of fact, so if you don't mind?"

"You're using avoidance tactics again, Potter," Draco smirked. He took a step forward and Harry took a step back in the general direction of the Great Hall. "So, what's your second reason why you and I can't be together?"

Harry gritted his teeth, his eyes rapidly scanning over the other boy's body for anything he could use against him. Draco's smirk widened, and Harry found his second reason.

"Reason number two: I can't be with someone who smirks too much. It makes you look evil, and creepy, and I don't like it," Harry blurted out rapidly. To his relief, he could now see the rest of the seventh year Gryffindors coming up the corridor. Malfoy was now outnumbered.

Draco wanted to open his mouth in disbelief, or to retort, or  _something_. Really, he did. But not in front of the rest of his peers (especially since they were Gryffindors). Such an expression was undignified. He gave Harry a meaningful look, which he was sure the brunet either ignored, or misunderstood, before turning and retreating back to the dungeons.

As he passed Weasley and his band of merry lions, he smirked at them evilly, sure that they would be onto Harry in no time flat.

When he turned the corner, it was then he realised that  _yes,_ he did smirk too much. And Harry didn't like it. It was  _creepy_ , or evil, or whatever Harry had said. Draco frowned and touched his lips with his hands. He regretted that action a moment later when he came across a livid (and literally purple) Pansy.

" _YOU!_  I am SO angry right now! And why are you touching your lips like that?! Did someone kiss you? You're mine! No one's allowed to touch you like that!" Pansy screeched, her face turning a rather unattractive shade of violet. Draco covered his mouth again and attempted to stifle an oncoming bout of laughter. "Yeah, you can laugh now. You wait until I've got you tied to my bed-"

"The deal's off, Pansy. You may have gotten Potter away from the Gryffindors, but not for long enough. Sorry. Try again next time."

" _What_?!"

"You heard me," Draco replied coolly, sidestepping his female 'friend' and continuing down the hallway. "If you can get me alone with Potter at least once a week, then you can tie me to your bed. But it has to be to my satisfaction."

Pansy seethed, but Draco knew she'd be willing to take any chance to 'get' with him. "Fine," she bit out irately. "You have a deal."

They shook on it, swore on Slytherin Honour, and made their way back to their common room.

* * *

 

"What was Malfoy doing this time, Harry?" Ron demanded as soon as the rest of the seventh years had cleared out from the common room and gone up to their respective dorms. Hermione gave her boyfriend a reproachful look, one that spoke volumes about  _tact_  and  _patience_ , both of which he severely lacked.

Harry shrugged, shuffling his feet nervously on the well-worn carpet underfoot. Hermione's eyes narrowed, taking in the fact that he was gnawing on his bottom lip and his slender fingers were playing with the hem of his untucked shirt.  _Really_ , boys were such messy creatures.

"I'm sure it was nothing, Ronald. Just Malfoy, being himself, trying to provoke Harry into acting out, or attacking first. Then that way, he could pin the blame on him, isn't that right, Harry?" Hermione turned to look at her other best friend expectantly.

"Well," Harry didn't want to prove  _either_  of them right or wrong. Malfoy wasn't  _provoking_  him into attacking, per say, but he  _was_  pissing Harry off. But for some strange, little reason, Harry felt it inappropriate to inform Ron and Hermione as to why Malfoy was always trying to confront him in the hallways.

It was none of their business, and it wasn't his right to flaunt it to others. Then again, if Malfoy  _did_  piss him off, he  _might_  just… let slip a few details to his two best friends. Until then, Harry's lips were sealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I'd just like to quickly mention something - the Reasons, especially the last chapter (and this one, and maybe the next as well).
> 
> There will be a progression in this story, you will see eventually, so please be patient. I didn't want to go all D-N-M (deep and meaningful) on you from the get-go. I want a bit of light-heartedness, otherwise it would just be angst, angst, angst - oh god kill me now, I can't read this shit anymore. So just bear with me, until we get into the nitty-gritty of the fic.


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